Coffee
by MLGumm
Summary: In which Steve manipulates Tony for his own good and Tony futily attempts to horde his coffee.
1. Chapter 1

There's something to be said for animal instinct. It provides even nature's most advanced and wayward children ways to sense the world around them in ways that all their quantifiable senses could not. For example, it allowed Tony sense that not only that there were eyes on him, but also, who they belonged to.

"Hey Steve," he called out, not even needing to turn from the flashing screen mounted on the wall.

"Tony." It also let him know that Steve was smiling.

But while mother nature gifts her children some natural instinct, she does not give away all the answers.

Steve's smile was a fond, soft-eyed smile beginning in the corners of his lips, threatening to take over, the same way it always, inevitably, did when he was around Tony. And that last bit, as always, went unnoticed by both parties. It was a little sad.

"What are you up to?" he asked, leaning against doorway, blocking it almost completely with his bulk.

"Designing a special safe that Natasha can't break into. She keeps stealing all of my coffee." He finally turned, revealing bags under his eyes, as dark as bruises. "I need my coffee."

Steve stared, horrified. "You need sleep!" he said.

Tony scoffed. "Sleep's for losers. I've got science!" He returned to his design.

What he didn't see was the poorly disguised look of deception that briefly stole across the captain's face, as he considered the best way to trick Tony into bed. (Not the way you're thinking, unfortunately. Pre-gay rights repression sucks.)

He had been taking some lessons from Natasha in the art of lying, but she had told him, with what might have been sadness, but was probably neutrality, that he would never be very accomplished at it. Manipulation was even harder for him. It worked best when he stuck very close to the truth. (Or, at least, the truth as he saw it.)

"Could we maybe talk, then, while you do that?"

Tony did not notice that Steve was not being as persistent as usual. Normally he would not give up even if he had to throw him over his shoulder and ask Jarvis to shut him out a while, for his own health. It didn't work most times because Tony took it as a challenge to hack his creation's blocks. This lack of suspicion was mostly due to sleep deprivation, but also because the computer in front of him was very shiny and had lots of numbers.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Pull up a chair." He even half turned from the monitor at the tone in his friend's voice.

_Guilt is a wonderful tool_, Natasha said in his head, _but sympathy is even better if you can get it_.

"It's been bugging me for a while," he started, "that everyone here has trained, or studied, or experimented to earn their spot here, except for me. I just got lucky, and sometimes I feel more like an anchor than a leader here," Steve admitted, taking up a large portion of Tony's workbench.

Tony snorted. "You can't be an anchor; you've never even tried yoga," he blurted, then backtracked when he saw the confusion on the captain's face. "Well, it's just that you'd have to do the splits, except with your legs bending up and your arms out like this..." He trailed off, his arms held out parallel to the floor.

Tony dropped his arms and pressed his way onto the little space left on the bench, sighing. "I'm sleep deprived and we're out of coffee, so bear with me." He studiously did not look at him. "You are the best leader I have ever served under, and before you say anything about that not being very many people at all, I know that, and that's why this is important. You have actually managed what most of my teachers growing up said was impossible- you have made me play nice with others. And I'm not the only one. This team is filled with hooligans and ne'erdowells, or whatever it is you called people like us back in the forties, and you have pulled us all together into something, well, not good, but helpful to the world in general. We'd follow you anywhere."

Steve hadn't said anything throughout his entire rant and it was starting to freak Tony out a little. He jumped up from the bench suddenly, mumbling something worrying about new safe schematics and plutonium. He wasn't prepared when a hand reached up to touch his wrist and he froze just long enough to be pulled into a gentle, yet firm hug by _Captain freakin' America_.

"Thank you." He... hadn't expected that. It was nice. It really felt like it meant something coming from Tony and now he was starting to feel guilty all over again. He was glad that his friend could not see the red spreading across his cheeks.

The older man squirmed, feeling his face flush. Of course Steve didn't believe in brief, manly man hugs, with only the minimum contact required. This was his life, why would he ever expect it to throw him a bone. Boners were another thing, but he forced himself to remember accidentally seeing Bruce leaving Clint's room looking extremely disheveled, and suddenly that wasn't a problem anymore. Small miracles. "So, now that all this talk about "feelings" is over, I am going to go. As soon as you release me. Preferably now."

He felt a huff of breath rustling his hair as the warm chest pressed against his began to quake with laughter. "Says the man who gives half his inventions their own personalities."

"Sociopaths have personalities too, doesn't mean they have feelings. Now put me down." Another full bodied laugh shook him until he was finally released.

If Steve felt any odd pangs of disappointment upon finally releasing the smaller man, he did not notice it, and so it didn't show. Instead he simply said, "Will you follow one of my orders first, then? Before you get back to work?"

And Tony knew that he didn't mean it the way little Tony kept insisting he did, but Bruce with hickeys wasn't working anymore and he wasn't in charge for the moment. "Yes," he said, in a voice that was almost normal except it wasn't as sarcastic as usual, but that could be chalked up them having a moment, couldn't it? Yes, unfortuately, it could.

Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder, looked deep into his eyes, and said, "Go to bed."

It took little Tony a few, reasonable, seconds to figure out that '_with me_' would not be tacked onto that sentence, and he deflated slowly, sadly.

Properly sized Tony simply grinned, because once he was back in control of his brain, he was actually very intelligent, no, really, and he figured it all out rather quickly. "Natasha."

Being a true gentleman, Steve blushed at manipulating his friend so, even if it was for his own good. He took his hand off Tony's shoulder. "Sorry."

But Tony just kept grinning, because really, he couldn't just say no now. Well he could, but Steve looked like a puppy who knew he shouldn't chew on socks, and was caught doing so anyways. His heart might be sharing his chest with a glowing, blue circle, but it wasn't missing. "Wake me up if cyborg clowns or something start attacking the city. Again."

And Steve smiled at him, a bit too brightly. Not that either of them noticed, because if there is one thing you should gather from this exchange, it is this: they may have been intelligent, but that didn't mean they couldn't be idiots.

* * *

Authors notes: I am so sorry. Dust bunnies made of powdery crack decided to lay seige upon my brain and would not cease until this was finished. Please note that it was written during a bout of insomnia between 2 and 4 in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks after the Hug- as Tony's brain insists on calling it, much to his resigned horror- he manages to build the world's first truly unbreachable safe. The safe is made of pure vibranium and locked with the most complex lock ever made by anyone in Earth's history; it took even authorized personnel (aka Tony and_ no one else_) a solid fifteen minutes to open, He even called in a favor with Thor to have Norse symbols to ward off thieves carved into it.

Tony placed his coffee inside and sealed it in, confident that when they ran out of coffee again, he, at least, would have some.

A few days later, (on a Tuesday, I think), they indeed ran out of coffee. It was a beautiful morning in New York. The smog was thinner than usual, pigeons were valiantly attempting to paint the entire city white, and the sound of honking could not be heard from so high up in the tower, regardless of how loud it got below. In short, is was nearly a perfect morning, missing only one thing.

Bruce and Steve had already left to go pick up more from the store down the street, as well as other groceries that Tony didn't care about, but he didn't want to wait, nor did he have to.

He practically skipped over to his special safe, cheerfully submitted to all of the careful security procedures he'd put in place, and pulled open the heavy door to reveal... nothing. For a moment he stared in wonder, thinking that it must have been an extra security measure he'd put in place and just didn't remember, or that the sheer awesome power of his brilliance had vaporized the coffee within seconds after he shut the door. A detailed search of the inside of the safe soon followed, only to reveal what Tony knew in his heart of hearts: the coffee was gone.

Dejected, he wandered listlessly towards the kitchen, hoping that Steve and Bruce had returned with the next dose of his lifeblood. He couldn't figure out what had happened. Did he get drunk and try to sober up with it? He didn't recall doing anything like that recently. Somehow he ignored that he hadn't for months because he knew Steve disapproved.

Halfway there he heard the sound of heavy footsteps jogging in his direction and thought, _Steve_. A wide smile replaced the dejected frown and he spun around to say hello. This plan was thwarted when Thor was there instead, looking every bit as cheerful as he always did.

"Good morn, brother! Would you care to put on the Man of Iron and spar?" he asked, looking excited at the prospect.

Tony shook his head, the grin still in place because it was impossible to not be glad to see Thor. "I don't have enough caffeine in my blood for that. You know if the guys are back yet?"

"Nay, they are still at market. They called me not a moment ago to ask if I wanted mutton or the meat called 'tri-tip.' I asked that they acquire the latter, as I do not recall having eaten such a beast before."

"Actually, it's just a different-" he stopped, mid-sentence to sniff the air. That scent was unmistakable. "Are you sure they're still out?"

Thor raised Mjolnir, clenching it tightly. "Yes. Is there danger?" He looked glad for the chance, even more so than he had for their practice session.

"Oh yes. There is definitely danger," he hissed, like the supervillan he could have become oh so easily.

He stalked the last ten yards to the kitchen and glared at the scene before him. Natasha held a steaming cup of coffee in her hands and was breathing it in appreciatively. She didn't even look like she needed it, with her perfectly styled hair and full make-up and clingy catsuit. Clint also had a mug, but he was gulping it down greedily. When he noticed Tony he waggled his eyebrows and smirked from his perch on top of the fridge.

"IS THAT MY COFFEE!" Tony screamed, honestly outraged for the first time since they'd met him.

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. "Sharing is caring, Stark. You want the Captain to know you were holding out on us? I don't think he'd approve, do you Clint?"

"Nope," came the reply. "I think he'd be disappointed. Really fucking disappointed."

Tony stared. "You will rue this day, Hawkeye," he said, low and dangerous.

"Hey! I'm not the one who took it!"

"You're much easier to kill."

"Does that mean you are interested in a duel?"

"No, Thor, this is revenge-"

"I just came in here and there was coffee being brewed-"

"RUE THE D-"

"Shut up!" Natasha's voice cut through the rabble. "Bruce just called and he sounded halfway green. There's some sort of alien charging at people a few blocks away. Everyone suit up."

* * *

Author's notes: Insomnia and I becoming fast friends. I think Tony might get jealous if this keeps up.

As you may have noticed, this has both expanded and gained plot, which I will proceed to write by the seat of my pants. So, we're probably looking at a bunch of vaguely connected, coffee flavored, chronologically ordered chapters which will hopefully end in Tony and Steve getting together. I already have an idea of what I want to do with the next two chapters, but beyond that I'm open to suggestions. And beta readers, if anyone is interested.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone fears something. For some it's heights, for others it's clowns, for a few very special people it's buttons.

Superheroes are not exempt from fear, but unlike most people they the troubling tendency to run straight at their fears, tackle them to the ground, and become far more intimate with them than anyone ever ought to be.

Steve feared losing people under his command. It was his duty to lead them to victory, and, when he could manage it, safety, but he always feared that he wasn't up to the task. If you asked any soldier that's ever been under his command they would swear that they would follow him to Hell if necessary, but that was kind of the problem, because he constantly feared that's exactly where he'd lead them.

Thor feared for his brother, Loki, who he suspected would one day get into trouble his tricks could not get him out of.

Clint feared having his mind taken over again. He delighted in his skill with his eyes and hands and another part of his body that it would be rude to mention. The idea that someone else could control those things, his things, sent shivers down his spine, and not the good kind like he got when Bruce...

Ahem. Moving on.

Bruce feared hesitation. Wait, that doesn't make sense, does it? No. It's more accurate to say that he knew that someday, maybe someday soon, maybe much later, he'd lose control of the other guy. He did not fear this, so much as accept it; that wasn't really the problem in his opinion. He was afraid that when the time came his friends would try to help him, to turn him back, and they would hesitate and it would result in blood.

Natasha feared... something. Maybe. Loss of control? Death? Going crazy? I'm not sure, she's good at keeping those kinds of things secret.

Tony feared a lot of things. If he listed his fears (intimacy, centipedes, commitment, Pepper's wrath, dying alone, etc.) the list would go on for quite a while. But his biggest fear was one he would never acknowledge, especially not to himself.

The torso of crashed his suit dug into his bruised stomach, holding his thoracic diaphragm still, forcing him to take shallow breaths that were never enough, but still enough to make his broken ribs scream in protest. His fingers skittered against the sides of his armor, searching desperately for the emergency release latches. They found only melted metal. From the outside his suit was simply a charred, twisted lump in the vague shape of a human, awaiting burial at the bottom of a crater in the middle of the street.

He blamed the coffee.

When they arrived at the scene, with Natasha clinging determinedly to Thor's back and Clint pretending Tony was the prize bull at the rodeo, they found the Hulk punching something furry and purple and twice as big as him while Steve evacuated nearby civilians, shield in one hand, bag of groceries in the other. He didn't even realize he was still holding it, or why. But Tony saw the artfully decorated bag of his favorite designer coffee resting at the very top, where it's delicate beans could not be crushed, and his heart did a little leap in his chest.

"Natasha, clear the buildings! Everyone else, help Bruce, but don't kill it!" Steve shouted, already in Captain America mode despite his lack of costume.

Natasha went to help Steve corral the jaded New Yorkers who seemed determined to stick around long enough to record some shaky footage for their youtube channels. The rest of them went to help subdue the really rather confused and frightened looking alien.

Swooping past the low roof of a nearby building, he'd let Clint jump off so that he could shoot tranquilizers at it from a safe distance. Then the building trembled suddenly as Thor and the Hulk were thrown like a ball off muscles and flailing limbs through the wall.

The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. Tony whipped around to see it charging at Steve, who didn't notice because some fucking kid with a camera phone wouldn't leave, and Natasha wasn't anywhere close enough to do anything.

Tony didn't even think about it. One moment he was next to Clint, who was lining up an exploding arrow, and the next he was there, hovering directly in it's warpath. The thing grabbed him by his arm and tugged. Somehow that put him right in the archer's way.

That's actually how he found out Clint had switched arrows. He had to say he was proud of his upgrades, despite how things turned out. It took something special to take out the Iron Man like that.

The fight continued without him. He could hear the muffled shouts and more exploding rounds and even what he was pretty sure was thunder at one point.

He abandoned his attempts at escape as his vision began to grow dark and his pain slowly distanced itself. Instead he brought his hand up to his visor and pulled, surprised but relieved when it came off. Cold rain splashed on his face, confirming his suspicion that Thor was _pissed_. He only brought out the lightning for big stuff.

He blacked out for a couple of minutes after that.

"Tony? Come on, wake up!"

Blinking blearily against the pain, he tried to wake up enough to figure out who that was. For a moment he thought he had a hangover, but there was something wrong with that. "Can't... breathe," he gasped, low enough that anyone without supersonic hearing wouldn't have been able to hear it. "Ar.. mor."

He considered just going back to sleep after that, but then he couldn't because the metal around him began to shift. It groaned as the newly welded seams were slowly pulled apart. The whole time he could hear the voice from before, pleading with him at first, then to God when he didn't answer.

Steve pulled as hard as he could without hurting Tony. It was slower work than he would have preferred. Panic, usually drowned out by duty and experience, now fluttered wildly in his chest. He didn't have time to consider why this injury was so much worse than all the others he'd seen his team take, or why he hadn't dropped that bag until he saw Tony go down, or why it didn't matter that they'd killed that alien.

His team watched restlessly from the street above, waiting for the ambulance. They collectively winced to see the torn pajamas only partially hiding a battered chest, splashed with burn marks in some areas.

Eventually an ambulance arrived and the paramedics came to survey the damage. Thor had to drag Steve away; he was the only one strong enough to do so.

On a high rooftop, a mouthy mercenary in red and black watched the scene. He had somehow gone unnoticed, despite the brightness of his costume and the way he was kind of posing while he stood there, like he wanted to look good if any of them looked up to see him there. He tilted his head as the ambulance doors slammed shut. "Well, shit."

* * *

Author's notes: Well, that was dramatic. Some genres have bodice rippers, we have armor rippers. I think I prefer the latter.

Reviews are always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

Tony woke up feeling amazingly good, if disconnected and vaguely fuzzy. He had to work at it, but slowly his senses returned. First there was smell, sharp and strong, like disinfectant and cleaning supplies, nearly blocking out the soft smell of soap and tea to his left. Then he could taste and it was worse than the smell because his mouth was full of stale morning breath with an undercurrent of blood. Some sheets were cocooned around him, but that was all for touch. He felt grateful for that, even though he wasn't sure why. The sound of steady typing prompted him to open his bleary eyes and turn his head.

He'd half expected to see Steve, like he always did when he woke up in a hospital. He tried to not be disappointed when that turned out not to be the case and failed. Miserably.

Instead he woke up to see Bruce, hunched in one visitor's chair, gray curls spilling onto his forehead as he typed something into a scuffed computer from the early 2000's that rested on the other chair. No matter how many times Tony'd offered him a new one, he wouldn't get rid of it. Something about sentimental value. He could sympathize; it was the only reason Dummy wasn't scrap metal either, some days. Bruce didn't look like he'd been there more than a few hours, but it was always hard to tell with him.

"Hey," Tony croaked, his voice less than a whisper. He tried again, a little louder, "Bruce."

Bruce looked up quickly, his fingers pausing on the keys. "Tony?"

Tony then lost track of him for a minute, because, hey, movement can be hard to follow sometimes, okay? After a minute Bruce loomed back into view, now with a clipboard in hand, and said, "Hi. You've, uh, been out for a while. You need anything?"

Tony blinked at him owlishly and considered that. "These are some good drugs," he decided at last. "Can I have some coffee?"

"No, we don't want to thin out what blood you have left," Bruce said, laughing in that near silent, huffing way he had. "You shouldn't suffer from caffeine withdraw too badly though, seeing as you haven't had it for five days."

Well. Five days was a long time to be unconscious. "That bad?" he asked quietly, unable to gauge the damage himself through all the medication.

"Worse."

They sat in silence while he took that in. It wasn't like Tony hadn't made a will. He had. Pepper got all his stocks and ownership of Stark Industries, Rhodey got War Machine and a ridiculous retirement fund, and the Avengers got an even split of his personal properties, money, and responsibility for the AI's. That wasn't even counting what went to his charities, including a war veteran fund he still denied having anything to do with. So, it wasn't like things weren't squared away if he died. But that didn't mean he was prepared for it.

"We only got him to leave a few hours ago," Bruce said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Who?" he asked absently while he struggled into a sitting position.

"Steve. And by 'leave' I mean he was dragged out while he was half asleep by Coulson and Thor. Just thought I'd let you know." He moved to help Tony sit up while he spoke, then sat back down in the visitor's chair.

Tony decided to play dumb. (Pssh, play?) "Oh. Why?"

But Bruce truly was a wise man. "Because we've all seen the way you look at him, Tony," he said, his mouth curling into a small smile.

Panic warred with the mind numbing drugs. In the ensuing chaos he babbled, "Of course I look. Have you ever seen him? He looks like an Aryan god, which is ironic, considering. You must have looked too. Unless you prefer shorter brunettes with snarky mouths and no sense of self preservation. Oh my god. You're dating me, minus the intelligence and charm and plus a fuckton of arrows. It's okay. I'm flattered really, but I don't feel that way about you."

Bruce was still puzzling through that particular tangle of logic when a voice called from the window "I'm going to ignore all of that," Clint said, pulling himself into the room, "but only because I need to say sorry for for nearly killing you."

"It happens," Tony said airily, waving a dismissive hand. The drugs had won.

For a while they sat there, talking about nothing, switching topics whenever a new one popped up in Tony's head because he had even less of a filter between his brain and mouth when he was drugged than when he was drunk. At some point, Tony offered Clint a hit from his IV of pain medication, and Bruce turned down the offer for him.

Eventually the conversation dwindled as Tony drifted off to sleep. They tucked him back under the covers and left.

"So, that's how we're playing this?" Clint asked as they wound their way through the twisting halls.

Bruce sighed and shrugged his shoulders next to him. "You know he'd check himself out in a heartbeat if we told him."

"He's going to try that anyway."

"I know."

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry I've been gone so long. I had inspiration with my original novel as well as a bunch of financial aid stuff to fill out. I'm going to be half dead during Freshman orientation tomorrow. Hey, you know what would perk me up afterward? Seeing comments from y'all. Seriously, it's always nice to hear your thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

The thing was, Bruce had been lying, but only by omission. Steve really was dragged out of Tony's room by Coulson and Thor, half asleep and demanding to stay, but that wasn't the whole of it.

No, it went something like this:

- The Avengers unknowingly killed an angsty alien crown prince.

- The prince's family didn't particularly appreciate losing their heir.

- Aliens invaded Earth.

- The Avengers were sent on many more missions to kill angsty young aliens, ones who weren't so important as princes.

These missions were near constant for our group of misfit heroes for the first four days, the same as every other superhero team on the planet. In their spare time they all collapsed in debriefing rooms and on the hard, metal benches of the Quinjet, and while hiding out in ruins of skyscrapers, waiting for back-up when things got too bad.

All of them, that is, except for Steve.

He watched over his team with an obsessiveness that none of the rest had quite seen before, with wild eyes that kept searching for red and gold armor every time he did yet another head count. They knew he didn't need much sleep, but it didn't take them long to discover that the only times he slept at all were when they were at SHIELD and he was in Tony's room. The psychologists said it wasn't healthy; no one stopped him.

And that's how things went for the first three days of the invasion, until someone mapping the attacks began to see a disturbing pattern. All the heaviest bombardments and thickest concentration of troops followed the Avengers across the continent.

When Fury first told them they were going into hiding it had been an utter shitstorm of "Nay. We will _not _hide." and "But we're fuckin' superheroes!" and "If you attempt to force the issue, you may soon be missing both eyes, sir." All it took to make them back down was an estimate of how much collateral damage followed in their wake. A horrified silence followed.

Steve broke it by asking, "Where do you need us to go?"

They needed to go to a remote facility somewhere deep in the woods of Canada, as it turned out. It was a sprawling compound, completely undetectable. The accommodations were just barren enough to make everyone remember how spoiled they were up in the Avenger's tower. They all hated it immediately.

It was on the fourth day that they moved in. Steve didn't bother stopping by his room, heading straight to medical- to Tony- instead. It was on the fifth day that Natasha looked in to see him drooping in the guest chair, desperately fighting sleep because he decided he wanted to greet Tony when he woke up. She rounded up Thor, for strength, and Coulson, for his ability to look past Steve's pleading eyes and make sure he got what he needed, if not what he wanted. They forced him into his barren room and promised him that he could come see Tony again in twelve hours if he would just sleep for a while, _Christ._

A couple hours later Tony stumbled awake to ask Bruce for coffee out loud, and where Steve was underneath that, because he needed both of them really. Then he fell asleep again and Bruce and Clint tagged Thor in, so he would have a more cheerful face to wake up to the next time.

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter has been brought to you by insomnia, because turning around one's hours in preperation for school is an awful experience, especially when one is naturally nocturnal.

Also, this story is more dramatic than I originally intended; these things never work out the way I plan for them to. Should I change the genres? I honestly intend for there to be comedy in the future, but melodrama is my drug of choice and I'm horribly addicted.

Anyways, I hope this wasn't too much of an info-dump, but I was writing the next chapter and realized that it was horribly confusing to anyone not living in my brain without some explanation.


	6. Chapter 6

It should surprise no one that Tony broke out just a few hours later.

Thor was sometimes wise beyond even his considerable years, but sometimes he expressed an almost childlike trust in others that often ended in much destruction and mayhem. It was probably more a credit to his character than a flaw, but that didn't mean it wasn't a pain in the ass when it backfired.

Steve found Tony in one of SHIELD's offices, tapping a finger irritably against one of those holographic monitors only Tony and government agents seemed to own with one hand and holding a steaming, paper cup of cheap coffee in the other.

"You're not supposed to be drinking that," Steve said, lips quirking at the corners as he stood motionless in the doorway. Only the slight creaking of the metal doorjamb under his white knuckle grip gave away that he was feeling anything besides fond annoyance.

Tony turned just enough so that Steve could see his raised eyebrow. "And according to these reports, you're supposed to be sleeping."

Steve plucked the cup from his hand with his own shaking ones and set it aside; to both their surprise, he met no resistance. "I've been breaking all sorts of rules since I woke up. I suppose you'll want to take credit for my corruption?"

"Always."

For a while they just stood there in front of the monitor, comfortable silence speaking for them. It settled into the small amount of space between them, every bit as tangible as their respective body heats, and bundled close until it became too good for Tony not to break it, because that boy had a troubling tendency to go messing with good things like he had a vendetta against them.

"So we killed a prince? That's kinda new. I mean, Loki was a prince or whatever, but Hulk just kinda smashed him and he was mostly okay, except for the probably broken bones and some serious bruising. But he deserved it. I mean, did you see what he did to my tower? Total dick. It took me forever to..."

He kept talking and Steve just let him, enjoying the way the words just poured over him. He'd... missed that. It was nice to have it back again. To have Tony back. It had been wrong when he did his headcount during missions only to turn up one short. Each time felt like he was trapped beneath the ice all over again until he remembered that Tony was alive and safe, just not with them, where he should be.

His eyes tracked Tony's hands on the monitor. The fingers were long and slim, with short blunt nails, callouses, and a bunch of small scars from long past accident and fights. They were as quick and nimble as the man himself as they danced merrily across the restricted files.

"...and then Bruce gave Namor the Nutella and the ice sculpture and everything was cool." Tony finally finished. He looked at Steve expectantly and Steve had no idea what to say. He'd spent the entire time watching Tony's hands.

"Maybe we should get you back to your room. Your drugs should be wearing off soon and it's going to hurt," he suggested quietly, expecting an argument.

Instead, Tony said, "Yeah. Hey, do you know what they're giving me? I want to serve it at our next party; it's kinda amazing."

Steve stared, rightly suspicious when he agreed so quickly. His voice was just a little on the painful side of high and he wasn't really doing anything to the monitor anymore because it stretched his ribs too much. Steve hadn't noticed it earlier, but it was plain to see when you looked for it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he hissed in concern, already easing one arm around Tony's waist to help prop him up. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Tony huffed, "Don't you dare. I've been the damsel in distress enough for this story."

Steve didn't say anything, and simply wrapped his arm around Tony a bit more securely before the began their trek back towards medical.

* * *

Author's notes: Whoops! Thought I posted this days ago!


	7. Chapter 7

To distract Tony from what was probably a debilitating amount of pain- judging from the fact that he was going willing back to medical- Steve talked. He caught Tony up on what was happening on the ground, and how Asgard was considering sending diplomats on Earth's behalf, and where Pepper had gone into hiding.

"Iceland? _Really_?"

"She said that it was the one place aliens almost never bother to attack when they try to invade Earth. Besides, Jane and Darcy were doing research up there, so..."

"But _Iceland_?" Tony whined. "It's the more boring place on the entire planet! That's why aliens never attack it. I mean, sure, they got some good booze, but that's it."

Steve huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh if he weren't so polite. "I don't know why you're so offended by this."

"Do you know how hard it is to get Pepper to take a vacation? She's going to count this as her vacation time and she's not even anywhere fun, like Sydney or Madrid," he said, even as a horrible thought occurred to him. "Oh my god, they didn't attack Madrid, did they?"

Steve thought about it for a bit, trying to remember which parts of the map had the most little, red lights on the holographic map in the war room. "I don't think so. They've mainly been focusing on the U.S."

Tony and Steve winced, each feeling more than a little responsible for that, and descended into silence for a while.

Steve floundered for a new topic, once less rife with blood and guilt. He eventually settled on one of Tony's favorite topics, one that he knew to be safe and free from awkward implications. "Hey, I have your coffee. When Bruce says it's okay I'll bring you some."

Tony stared at him like the secrets of the universe were etched into the profile of Steve's face. "What coffee."

"You know, the overpriced coffee you put on the list every time Bruce or I go shopping," Steve replied, staring resolutely ahead. He wasn't sure why it was important to do so, or even that he was doing it, but suddenly he found himself unable to look at Tony. "The rest of the groceries were ruined, but they seemed alright, and it would have been a waste not to bring them, especially considering how much you complain about SHIELD coffee."

...Steve brought his coffee.

Of all things he could have done...

It was in this exact moment that Tony finally recognized a key fact about himself and his relationship with Steve, something that even he could not ignore. His heart fluttered in a thoroughly unhealthy manner and all the air disappeared from the universe and Tony was half certain that he was going to die horribly, because his greatest fear was coming true before his very eyes: it wasn't just a little man-crush mixed with a healthy dose of lust, or appreciation for the magnificence of the perfect mix of man and science. No.

Tony Stark was in love.

It was just poor timing that, like all his major epiphanies, this one was accompanied by an explosion.

* * *

Author's notes: So... I kinda went on an unscheduled hiatus for a while. RL was kicking my ass and I needed time to deal with it, but I'm back now, with a really short chapter. Don't worry, the next one is much longer.


End file.
